Insanity
by Kalloway
Summary: "My sanity… died with them." Líf admits to the truth of his terrible sin… but that's not all of it, is it? The Summoner has a brush with him first-hand and alone while awaiting Princess Veronica to finish her research in the Emblian archives, and he reveals something even more grim than they could ever imagine. Involving *them*, of all things.


**** If you haven't completed Book 3 of the Main Story for Fire Emblem: Heroes yet, I ****_HIGHLY_**** recommend you do before reading. ****

Not only because it kicks ass, but because this might be semi-confusing and there's **VERY blatant spoilers** within. Or you can be like me sometimes and just read anyway, then ask yourself why you did that to yourself. That's cool too.

(Don't say I didn't warn you - I had that part of the plot spoiled for me so I just wanna ensure no one else easily does it on something I wrote!)

* I also used an oc for the Summoner here just like last time, but I tried to keep it less specific this time. Feel free to swap the name and/or gender tags out (mentally) with ur own Summoner if you want lol

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* * *

They didn't think they'd strayed that far from the others, but they'd been so caught up comparing the Emblian architecture to that of Askr - how remarkably similar they were, and other such nonsense.

The Summoner had turned down a corner they'd barely noticed hidden among the towering shelves all among the walls and forming a labyrinth of tomes in this unspeakably large room. It was like an illusion - the pathway was almost unnoticeable from a glance, simply appearing like the rest of the flat bookcase ahead of them into a dead-end… but they'd been surprised when they walked to the very end to gawk at a large, gaudy looking tome that stood out among the other dark covers.

Why did it not surprise them that there'd be such trickery at work here?

After all, this was Embla. It wasn't like they expected much else from the realm where the likes of Veronica and Bruno had come from.

The thought made their face twist into a sour expression as they cautiously meandered down the hidden pathway.

Perhaps _this_ was the true dead-end section, hiding something from less thorough perusers? It turned once more and opened into a small 'room' of sorts, divided by the bookcases on the outside, and some sporadically filled ones in the center.

Why would these be half empty? The rest of the archives didn't seem sparse whatsoever, just like Askr's had been. They weren't missing books, however. They'd been haphazardly thrown onto the floor, some spines now split on older looking ones, and a precarious looking tower of them stacked in a corner.

They bent to pick up a broken one… not that they'd even been expecting to be able to read the symbols or words written throughout.

'_Who would just throw a bunch of books around and leave, anyway? Seems… weird...'_

Something else caught their eye, and they place the book onto the stack without upsetting the tower. Around the back of the cases in the middle, was a random curtain covering a section of the shelving. Why this would be here was beyond them…

Maybe it was like those paintings you'd see in movies or tv sometimes? Covered with a curtain to hide it from display?

But it seemed strange to be in the middle of a library, in a hidden little walkway tucked away from everything else. Their hand hovered near the cloth, tempted to pull it back to reveal what was there… but they hesitated.

This was _Embla_.

What if this was like some cursed portrait that drove people mad? Or maybe a painting that would, say… leap out and attack you if you looked at it funny? How would they know any better, right?

They stumbled over a book when they took a step back, and stooped down to look at it closer. It had been left open, but there were other words scrawled on top of the print, in different writing. It… sort of looked like the script they'd seen while in Askr - both Askrs.

If only they could just magically translate everything so it wasn't some ominous text they couldn't read in a book that was conveniently place here near this curtain-

The train of thought halted immediately when they'd glanced at the curtain.

From this height, they caught sight of something underneath it they hadn't before. A foot. Or more accurately… a boot. Two. Like… dangling legs, like someone was sitting on a ledge. They looked… awfully familiar too. They glanced at their own feet for a moment before looking back up, a horrible feeling of dread clenching their gut all of a sudden.

What kind of hidden curtain portrait… had legs coming out from it?

Part of them wanted to leave and forget they saw this - it was probably some wacky Emblian thing, right? But something was keeping them back. Something bad.

Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought him back.

That was a load of bull.

They mustered the courage to fling open the curtains… only to have their blood go cold in their veins. Petrified? No, _mortified_ seemed like a strong enough word to describe the feeling.

The familiarity of the footwear had continued upwards, to where a slumped figure sat on a concave's part of the wall, atop a shelf. The whites and brilliant golds of the robes was long since gone, replaced with dull metallics and greyish tinges… with a dash of something dark and rusty coloured on top. This was no cherry though.

It was like all the scattered thoughts in their mind had suddenly scattered from the fright, leaving behind the awful conclusion - the realization and comprehension of what exactly they were looking at.

The Summoner, was seeing a doppleganger of themselves.

Left forgotten in a dusty corner of the archives in Embla of all places.

Headless.

The urge to scream abruptly rose to escape her throat, but was snuffed out before any sound could come of it.

An armoured, sharp hand and breath as cold as ice had instantly erased any willpower they had left to put up a fight. They hadn't the nerve to take their eyes off their own corpse.

The voice behind them was dark… but not menacing like they'd anticipated.

"Why did _you_, of all of them… have to be so _nosy_?"

The mask Líf wore exhaled a rush of that cold, deathly air onto their neck, piercing straight through the material of their cloak to send a chill down their spine. The clawed hand covering their mouth was borderline clenched to the point where it hurt, but it was the last of their worries.

What was worse than being unable to look away from a dead person?

Who would believe them if they admitted it was being unable to look into unseeing, clouded eyes?

Noticing they didn't respond, nor even seem to make any attempt to fight his grasp, he continued… slowly and deliberately, "After my sister died… I had been foolish to think it couldn't be worse than that. The agony of watching her die had ruined me. But watching my… _friend…_ die, had unraveled the rest. _Destroyed_ me, and any sanity I had left."

...Why had it taken this long for the tears to finally well up? Was the shock of the sight enough to put it off for a minute or two?

He continued, leaning over her shoulder as if to study the doppelganger more closely himself, "In that moment, a fear overtook me. What would become of you? Would you come back from Hel's clutches an enemy? Or… would you show face at all?"

"It was a risk I couldn't bear to take."

He'd released them from his grasp.

They sputtered, "I… why is… why is my head…..._missing_?"

"..."

A sudden surge of anger rushed over them. They finally ripped their eyes from the corpse and glared straight into the dull, red ones of the fiend who seemed to do nothing but haunt them all.

They didn't remember the last time they felt angry enough, they were _so_ tempted to strangle someone - to scream at them with no hesitation, "_WHY IS IT GONE, ALFONSE?!_" After a moment, they added quietly, "...are you too much of a coward to tell _me_ the truth?"

Though his demeanour didn't seem to change, there was more of a crease in his brow than before, his eyes barely glowing, "I did it for my own good."

The response was short, but the impact was like a train had hit them square-on.

His eyes narrowed as he looked down upon them, "I didn't want to have to fight you… before my time came. I was… afraid."

"So you… _you…_?" This wasn't happening. He wasn't about to explain this the way they were afraid he was going to… was he?

"I removed it after you died."

_Oh no._

He closed his eyes, as if the memory pained him, "Believe me, it was not something I desired to do… to defile the dead in such a way. But I had to be sure."

Their glare could burn a hole through him, had he been alive, "...was it worth it?"

The lazy way he glanced back at them - the way he looked completely dead inside… for once fitting his outward appearance and character… they almost felt sorry for him, in that moment.

"..._Never_." It had come out like a whisper.

Their mouth opened and shut several times, at a complete loss for words. What the hell were you _supposed_ to say to something like that anyway?!

Líf wasn't finished, "_Arya-_"

The use of their… _her_ name… she couldn't decide whether she wanted to laugh, cry, or scream at him.

How dare he use her real name when he just admitted to something this horrendous and inhuman!

He noted the turmoil scrawled all over her face, and continued with added urgency, "Breidablik vanished afterwards. It's how I knew my suspicions were correct. It's why Hel cannot use your power against you… not that she has need to."

"...you _killed_ me."

"I didn't-"

"How can you _do_ such a thing and live with yourself?" She was upset now, stammering and uncertain of her own words, "I mean, I know you're dead but- like, that's not the point! Whatever humanity you had left died with you. I guarantee it!"

He was quiet, eyes unreadable, before he replied calmly, "How can you lay such claims, when I'm trying to save people-"

"God, you're just as bad as the crap that was going on in my world! No one should have to kill other people to 'save' their own! It's unfair-"

She was cut off of her rant when he snatched her by the arms tightly, his grip now genuinely hurting her. His eyes were angry, glaring red, "_Life_ is unfair, Summoner! So is death! What part of that are you unable to comprehend?" He spat out to himself, "You're more like a child than I thought you were."

"I didn't want any of this." He watched her carefully and she continued solemnly, "I'm not a hero. I can barely even hold up a sword. I was yanked from my former life into this world with strange people and strange customs, where so little is familiar to me."

She looked up at him, ignoring the pain his armoured hands were causing her, "Can you blame me for acting like a child in a place I don't understand? I thought I was just going to help Askr against Veronica… not fight against the actual Apocalypse, or-or death herself! No one told me this and barely anyone explain anything! About _why_. _Why_ is it all happening _now_?"

"...you're pitiful, Arya. You shouldn't be." He released her, "You're alive, aren't you?"

"You said yourself, you have to kill people to bring back your own."

"Believe me… Sharena and you are the two people I _don't_ want to kill. But if it brings you back in _my_ world despite what I've done… it's worth the cost to me." He clenched a hand to his transparent, empty chest but didn't look at her, "I have nothing left to lose. No heart. No sanity. Nothing."

"...you honestly trust Hel? To keep her word about bringing your people back?" She scoffed when he looked like he was going to respond, "How many people have you killed already? We've been to your Askr, and it was empty. Why would it be any different?"

"I-" He seemed offended at the accusation.

She cut him off, "Hel is Death herself - that's what you told me. So what good does bringing people back to life do for her? It doesn't bolster her army, it doesn't satisfy her urge to kill everything. I mean… _god_, haven't you heard her _speak_ before? You were there! She wants nothing more than to kill _everything_. This…this curse you mentioned doing… that just did half her work for her. She'll come for the other half eventually. Whether that's us, or you."

He hadn't blinked in a while, just stared right at her like he was trying to peer into her soul or something. After a long moment's hesitation, he released a long, weary sigh, "You make it sound so simple."

"Things probably seem more complicated than they are. But what would I know? After all," She gestured bitterly at the corpse behind her, "I'm already dead, aren't I? I'm just a dumb girl who got involved in things way beyond me, and paid the price, right? That's all I'll ever be."

"Arya-"

He was cut off by voices not far away.

"Summoner!"

"Summoner, where are you?"

Líf clenched his fists before shaking his head, "I knew the moment I did it, I could never be forgiven for it. Not by you, or anyone else."

He now finally noticed the book she'd dropped at her feet before he'd even shown up, and gave it a long, hard stare, "...I deserve no mercy for the sin which I've committed on this day, not long from now. I keep making mistakes I'll pay for, thus all I can do now is to hold on to the insane hope I can save them all again."

Piercing eyes bore down on her through his long, shaggy hair, "Even _you_, Summoner. The one I grew too fond of."

She'd heard the voices from nearby again, but when she looked back to give him a response, he'd vanished into thin air. Her ire had disappeared along with him, and she cast another sullen glance over at the body that still sat in place - the only silent witness to him having ever been there.

She wanted to burn the image from her mind. She roughly jerked the curtain closed to obscure it again - _Her_, again. She picked the book up from the ground and frowned at the Askran script that was sloppily scribbled over the words underneath.

She knew it was not her place to do so, but she longed to simply… burn it.

As if removing its existence would help her forget the horror she'd just been through.

Instead, she walked out from the sheltered area with it in-hand. When the others finally found her walking towards them, Veronica was livid, "Why are you handling books that aren't your own? Give me that!"

She made to obey, solemnly holding out the open book for her to take, but Sharena halted them both, "Wait! Isn't that… Askran?"

Alfonse took the book from the Summoner, but they avoided looking at him at all as he spoke, "This is Askran… and it's not ancient either. This is like the other texts we read back in Askr. The _other_ Askr."

"What does it say?"

He narrowed his eyes to scrutinize the words, "It says… '_May my paranoia never be proven wrong. Let my name be cursed into eternity. This is a sin which has no hope of being forgiven-'_"

He halted, but he was still scanning the words.

He now noticed the Summoner did not look his way, as he finished, "...'_I regret taking a life a second time, so that she does not rise against me. Arya. The Summoner. The one I called… friend.'_"

The Summoner felt the eyes of every person in the room upon them, and silently thanked whoever had blessed her with these hooded robes so that she could hide her face… for she felt she couldn't bear to look them in the eye.

However, she addressed the silence in the room that seemed to want to linger until it was broken… quietly, as if speaking at a funeral, "...I found out what happened to me, in this world."

'_I died. Then I died a second time.'_

And now, a third time.

More than anything, did the Summoner desire to be anywhere but with these kind Askrans that had been her companions for so long now.

She wanted to wake up from this dream-turned-nightmare.

_Alone_.

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* * *

_"At what point does mere madness turn into insanity?"_

This was just a v grim, twisted sorta idea I had partially cuz I'm v salty about the cliffhanger (l legit finished Book 3 yesterday), and partially just because... I haven't written anything dark in a while.

I love angst lmao

Hope this isn't too weird! It's def bordering on like, AU material, but that's okay!


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